


i have fault lines in my bones

by buries



Series: i don't want to die [3]
Category: The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Elena Gilbert, Dom Elijah Mikaelson, Elena Gilbert-centric, Elijah Mikaelson-centric, Episode: s02e19 Klaus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Human Elena Gilbert, Human/Vampire Relationship, Implied/Referenced Cheating, POV Elena Gilbert, Protective Elijah Mikaelson, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: Elena's told herself she's content with her decision to die, but Elijah has other plans. This time, he's going to succeed in saving the doppelgänger. 2x19 au.—[ sequel toi don’t have time to dieandtime is eternity]
Relationships: Elena Gilbert/Elijah Mikaelson
Series: i don't want to die [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146860
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	1. goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say a big thank you to everyone who has read [i don’t have time to die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912894) and [time is eternity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28807866) for enjoying those fics. I also wanted to extend a big thank you to those of you who have left me a comment of encouragement. When I wrote _i don’t have time to die_ , I had intended for it to be a porny one-shot that was a little kinkier than what I had been writing at the time. I wasn’t even sure anyone would like it, so I’ve been completely blown away by the positive reception. I never expected to try and turn this idea into a series.
> 
> This fic is set after 2x19: Klaus, meaning the Elijah and Elena conversation about Klaus, the Sun and Moon Curse, and the elixir at the Lockwood Mansion has happened. The only thing that’s different from canon (aside from Elijah and Elena fucking, of course) is the fact I’m pushing the ritual out since it seemed to happen so quickly that we didn’t get to enjoy them plotting to save her and delve further into Elena’s relationship with grief, death and self-sacrifice.
> 
> This is my little love letter to season 2 Elena, who I thought was so interesting and multi-faceted, and who deserved better.
> 
> Just an important note: There’s some plot and there’s going to be a lot of porn. This is most likely going to be slow-burn despite all the porn.

Elena smiles, closing her eyes as she relaxes against her soft bedspread. His weight is warm on top of her, lips leaving hot trails in their wake across her stomach. She keeps her hands above her head where he’s quietly placed them, fingers digging into her palms as she tries to push her noises and words up into her lifelines.

She can be quiet, she knows. She’s practiced this with her bedroom door ajar while she imagines it’s Elijah’s hand warming her inner thighs and his fingers tucked inside of her.

Panting, she licks her lips and tries to remain quiet. She’s still dressed, her shirt pushed up to her breasts. He’s a comfortable presence between her legs as she cradles him as protectively as she can.

"Elijah," she says quietly, licking her lips. She tries to clear her throat to destroy her desire to laugh. His mouth is ticklish against her stomach and his dress shirt and slacks are too heavy and itchy against her legs. 

"Sh." Tongue against her stomach, he licks his way to her navel and nips at her skin. His mouth is warm, his hands soft but firm on her hipbones as he presses her quietly into the bed. She makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "Quiet," he says softly.

"But Jen—"

"Is asleep on the couch," he says quietly. The downstairs television hums up the staircase, the words indiscernible to her ears. She doesn’t try to focus on the sounds, her breathing heavy and his not laboured enough to her ears.

His hands dig into her hipbones, fingers sliding beneath the waistband of her jeans. 

"She could—" Elena sighs, shivering as he drags his teeth sharply across her skin. His hands work deftly and blindly to undo her pants, tugging at them sharply to pull them down her hips. This time, she’s wearing her best panties. It’s a thought that makes her laugh softly.

"Elijah, we’ll—"

With a put upon sigh, he lifts his head up to peer up at her sharply. It makes her feel a little scolded, although the hair hanging over his temple and the brightness to his dark eyes makes her feel like misbehaving in the hopes of him trying to teach her a lesson again. She thinks one’s on the tip of his tongue, but she can’t be sure. He’s still a new book she’s trying to read. "If you keep talking, I’ll stop."

Biting her bottom lip to try and hide her smile, she shakes her head. That’s the last thing she wants. His weight is comfortable, hot and heavy every time he’s on top of her. Heat floods her body as she presses her lips together and keeps her gaze on his.

She bites back her laugh as he tugs her pants down her legs, kneeling before her. Dropping her jeans carelessly onto the floor with a thud, he slides his hands up the outside of her legs and hooks his fingers into her panties. 

Her heart pounds so loudly in her chest her entire body vibrates. 

"Let me guess," she begins quietly, lips curving upward. She bites her bottom lip as she stares at his, tipping upwards in a mirror image of her own. "You’ll take them?"

His lips curve upward as he slides them slowly down her thighs. She lifts her ass up to help him and feels the hairs on her legs rise as he glides the fabric down her legs, fingers grazing her skin like he simply can’t stop himself from touching her. The panties disappear where she expects them to: tucked safely into the back pocket of his slacks.

He slides his hand up the inside of her leg, slowly lifting it to rest her heel on his shoulder. She doesn’t fight him when he lifts her other leg and plants it on his other shoulder. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, more than she’s ever felt before, she feels her heart thump violently in her chest. Wishes that he won’t peer down and look at her cunt.

"You’re beautiful," he says, his gaze warm on her face. "And still overly dressed."

With a smile and an amused roll of her eyes, Elena expects he’ll let her remove her feet. He latches onto her ankles, keeping them on his shoulders. Hooking her fingers into the hem of her shirt, she leans up and slowly pulls it up and over her head. It’s a struggle that she thinks he enjoys.

At the arch of his brow and his pointed look at her bra, she shakes her head. "Nuh uh," she says, hands pressing hard into the bed beneath her. "I think you should take something off."

Elijah smiles. Brushing his hands against her ankles, she watches intently as he places them against the collar of his button up shirt. She waits with anticipation for him to unbutton it to reveal the hard muscle beneath. 

Untying his tie, he smiles as he slides it slowly from beneath his collar and holds it in the palm of his hand like it’s an offering.

"That’s cheating," she says with a soft laugh.

"You wanted me to take something off, Elena," he says, lifting the tie to her thigh. He slowly wraps it around her leg, gently tying it. "I expect you’ll take good care of it."

Biting her bottom lip, she makes a noise in the back of her throat when he tugs her closer. She tries to slide her legs from his shoulders, but his hands grip her ankles tightly, pulling them to sit right near the sides of his neck. 

Elena furrows her brow as she peers up at him, hands pressing against the bedspread beside her.

"Trust me," he says, tracing his fingertips along the outside of her calves. "I won’t hurt you."

Licking her lips, she tries to wet her dried mouth. Her heart thumps in her chest, a pounding that makes her wonder if he can see it beat beneath her skin. Glancing down her body, she grips the bedsheets between her fingers as heat tinges her skin. All she’s wearing as a defence against him is her deep red bra and nothing else.

"Lie back," he says, hands gentle against her ankles. She lowers to the bed, hair pillowing her head and neck, and slowly moves her hands back to where they’d been before, locked above her head. 

Gazing at her long and slow, her body burns when she spies his lips parting ever so slightly. He looks at her like she’s a meal to eat, and for once, Elena doesn’t feel like running from the big bad vampire.

Turning his head to the side, his hands are gentle when he wraps his fingers around her calf. He picks her leg up like she’s made of glass and kisses her skin, lips warm, leaving little fire trails in their wake. She lets out a shaky breath and curls her fingers tightly into her palms.

He drops his hands from her leg and unbuckles his belt, his gaze on her face as undoes his pants. Elena doesn’t think she blinks, staring openly at him as he tugs his slacks down his hips, his black briefs following suit. 

Wrapping his hand around his cock, she shifts on the bed, arching her back slightly as he strokes himself. It’s such an open display of desire that she feels heat pool in her belly and cheeks.

His hands are warm beneath her ass, palms slightly clammy. She moves her hands, digs her elbows into the bedspread and tries to help him shift her hips up. He guides his cock inside of her cunt slowly, his gaze on her.

She closes her eyes, mouth falling open with a moan. "Oh my god." She hears a guttural sound, feels it burn her throat as she lets it escape the dungeon of her mouth. His fingers are warm against her ass, clothed shoulders searing her ankles.

When she opens her eyes, he’s smiling lopsidedly at her. It’s the most arrogant he’s looked. "Are you okay?"

Pursing her lips in annoyance, she tries her best to swallow her moan. Nodding a little too desperately, she swallows thickly and hums. "Yes," she says.

"Tell me how you feel." He’s slow to slide inside of her, hips not flushed against her own. 

"Good," she says. The word hardly describes how she feels. His hands are on her hips as he shifts inside of her, pulling a little away to only come back to her. She bites her bottom lip and lets it fall from between her teeth. "You feel big."

He laughs as her face reddens. "You don’t mince your words, do you?"

"You have my word," she says, smiling widely. Moaning low in her throat when he presses closer to her, leaning into her body like she’s a beacon, she licks her bottom lip and lets out an exhale. "You have my word, Elijah."

"And what word is that?" he asks quietly. He hovers over her, shoulders still a perch for her ankles. His hands slide from her hips to her thighs, all the way up to her ankles. He glides them back down, a featherlight touch that strangely comforts her. 

"I don’t remember," she says, blushing. He pushes in deeper and she grips the bedsheets, panting. 

"I think you’re lying to me."

Folding her arms above her head, she arches her chest up off the bed and shakes her head. "I’m not," she says. She shifts her feet on his shoulders and gasps when he thrusts into her. His hands rest against her ass, fingers pinching her skin. "I’m—"

Elena forgets. It’s easily the best decision she’s ever made. Focusing on talking is such a bad idea. She doesn’t need words anymore. All she needs is the quiet pants of him, so tightly wound and controlled that she digs her heels against his shoulders and readjusts them to try and push them out of him.

He thrusts into her, cock deep inside of her. She brushes her hands over her hair and plants them on her ribcage, arching her back off the bed. His panting deepens, his thrusts a little sharper. She slides her hands up her torso to her breasts, squeezing them beneath her bra. Head tilted back, she looks up at her plain ceiling and slides her hand over the cup and tugs it down, palming her bared breast as she moans and shifts against his hips.

When she looks up at him, hands on her breasts, his gaze is downcast on their hips. She flushes again, skin bright red. "What?"

"You’re beautiful," he says. She flushes again, heat bursting in her eardrums. His gaze lifts from where they’re joined to peer up at her, gaze only dropping to her hands on her breasts for a short moment. 

"You’re handsome," she says as her attempt to get him back. He barely flushes, a few strands of long hair sticking to his forehead. His hands only grip her ass and he shifts against her harder.

Her hands leave her body as she grips the bedspread, shifting and trying to thrust up into him. His hands are possessive against her body, sliding to the small of her back. He thrusts deeper, sending heat throughout her body. Hair sticking to her back and shoulders, Elena tries to dig her elbows into the bed to prop herself up but finds her entire body is boneless.

She shudders when his finger brushes against her clit. Hand slapping against her mouth, she moans muffled and loud, twisting on the bed as he thrusts into her and brushes her clit again. Tension coils in her back as he rubs at her. She bites the back of her hand hard enough to split her skin as she comes, back arching off the bed as her body tenses.

He doesn’t stop, not that she wants him to. His hands are possessive against her hips as he slides them to her ass. Elijah’s eyes look dark, possessive in a way she’s come to learn isn’t entirely frightening nor threatening. She holds her hand against her mouth and squirms when he pinches her ass.

Sliding her hand away from her mouth, she rests her cheek on the bed and looks to her free standing mirror. She wants to see them together, just this once. What he looks like when he’s inside of her and what she looks like when she’s boneless and defenceless but safe. Disappointment curls with the heat in her belly at the sight of the mirror’s reflection being blocked. He’s conveniently hung his blazer over it.

Looking up at him, she slides her hand up her belly to cup her bare breast, summoning his dark gaze to settle on her chest. He bites his lip hard, blood pooling on skin when he slides his bottom lip between his teeth.

She watches him as he comes, body tense beneath his suit. Even with his armour on, she can see how his skin brightens, damp with sweat. Immaculate hair sticking to his skin. She wonders if he regrets it, not meeting her skin with skin. His hands grip her hips tightly, imprinting his fingerprints on her like she’s his to own.

Elijah brushes his hands up and down her legs gently as he slowly pulls away from her. A sound escapes her lips and she watches him watch her as he leaves her. 

"Are you okay?"

She doesn’t answer as he pulls her legs from his shoulders, holding one between his hands. Gently massaging her calf, he smiles at her as he lowers that leg down in favour of picking up the other.

"That was…" She brushes her hands against her mouth and laughs in embarrassment. Feeling brave, she arches her brow and teases, "Maybe next time you’ll take your belt off?"

He chuckles, dropping his gaze and her leg. When she thinks he’s going to stay kneeled between her legs, he’s slow to move up her body, hands on either side of her head. He hovers over her like a warm, comforting shadow. His dress shirt’s untucked from his slacks.

Ensnaring him in her arms, she loops them around his neck and gently tugs him down in a quiet invitation. He’s hesitant to lower himself on top of her, but he does, thinly covered chest pressing against hers, legs between her thighs. She holds him to her, hand sliding up the back of his neck into his hair.

Then she ruffles it to his laughter.

"Has anyone ever told you you’re a menace, Elena Gilbert?"

"Would you believe no one has?" 

Lifting his head, he peers down at her. Hand gentle against the side of her face, he brushes some of her hair from her damp forehead before he lowers his face down to kiss the tip of her nose.

She holds her breath, waiting for his lips to warm hers. She can smell the blood on his healed lip.

"We really do need to stop meeting like this," she laughs softly.

Dropping her hands by her sides, she waits for him to lift himself up and off of her. She’s surprised when he decides to lower his head to her neck, hand curving to the side of her waist as he lies upon her. 

Tentatively, she lifts her hand to brush her the edges of her nails against the rumpled fabric of his shirt. She wishes she could feel the bare skin of his warm chest press against her, but Elena doesn’t push. She never does, not when it comes to what she truly wants. Forgiveness is a slip of armour she hides behind in her attempt to have him lowers his.

Bowing his head, his warm lips linger against the skin of her shoulder. "What’s your favourite colour?" he asks.

Brows lifting up, surprise and shock heat her chest. Her hand stops on his back, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. "My what?"

"Favourite colour," he says, pressing his chin against her shoulder. He peers up at her, brown eyes warm liquid. His hair hangs around his face in a way that makes him look young. "You have one, don’t you?"

"I do," she says, brows furrowing for a moment. Palming his back, she rubs her hand up and down his spine, pressing hard enough to try and leave a vague imprint of her lifelines against the canvas of his back. "I like the colour blue."

"Blue?" His brows lift up.

She laughs, cheeks tinging with heat. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I’m not," he says, smiling. Impulsively she reaches out to brush her fingers against the shape of his mouth, pads gentle against his bottom lip. The blood has dried, but she still feels some of it kiss her fingertips. "Blue suits you. It’s a very calming colour, much like you."

Breath catching in her throat, she stares down at him as his gaze wanders away from her. He must be looking at her pillows, splayed above their heads untouched. She doesn’t make a move to try and shift upwards, not wanting to dislodge them. Selfishly, she doesn’t want to lose this moment.

After a moment, she asks, "What’s yours?"

"Red," he says, turning to peer up at her. His chin his a sharp indent against her skin. She likes it there, the way he seems to lean against her like she’s not just a human girl made of supple skin.

Arching her brow, she teases, "Because of blood?"

He laughs, rich and warm. He shakes his head and rests his cheek against her bicep. "When I was a boy, the earth had a deep red tinge to it. I liked it."

Elena stares at him, not wanting to blink in case she misses seeing him looking so calm and childlike. He looks across her body, hand pinching her side as if he wishes to wake himself up from a dream. Elena refuses to wake, burrowing deeply into the safety net of what’s become a secret pocket for them to escape into.

"My mom had a phase when I was younger," she says, her gaze lingering on the way his hair crimps from sweat. When he turns his head, she looks away and to the covered mirror, wishing she could see what she looks like with an Original Vampire laying upon her like she’s the red earth he loves so much to remember for centuries. "She used to wear blue all the time. Blue eyeshadow, blue hair clips, blue sweaters and bras," she laughs. "I wanted to be just like her, so I used to demand everything be blue, too. My pens, my lipsticks, shoes, socks… Even my food."

He smiles, peering up at her warmly. His brown gaze feels sharp in a search to find a crack or crinkle in her story. Elena keeps her face straight and tries to hold the bravery in her chest.

"I never stopped liking blue even when she died," she says, pressing her lips together. A welt grows somewhere inside of her, filling with a grief that she thought she’d buried deep, deep down. It’s been hard to escape what’s been unburied from the ground since learning her fate to die.

"Blue definitely suits you," he says quietly. She glances at him and looks away, inhaling sharply and her throat tightening around the air. She holds it, trying to trap it and her need to stay in control. Control isn’t something she’s ever had the luxury of knowing the texture of.

She swallows thickly, and laughs softly, a little taken aback at the press of his lips against her shoulder. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, nose pressing against her shoulder as he sniffs her. She wonders what she smells like to him, if he can catch the wafts of human vulnerability deep beneath the iron she tries to encase herself in.

Her hands slide off his back as he pushes himself up, the bed dipping violently deep beside her. She lies on her back, legs feeling flat against the sheets. The warmth of his body fades away like the setting sun.

Sucking in her bottom lip, she watches him with wide eyes and a disappointed curve to her lips as he sits onto his knees and begins to tug at his shirt. Hiding the gentleness of his hands behind gauntlets and the warmth of his chest under a suit of armour she can’t even penetrate, she’s lost when his warm expression is covered by a helmet of coolness.

He’s off her bed swiftly, his tie still wrapped around her leg like it’s a token. Perhaps it’s meant to be a shackle, keeping her in place on the bed. But he’s forgotten to tie her to something to keep her where she is.

Sliding through heavy quicksand, she pushes herself up and onto her hands, swinging her legs beneath her. She tugs her bra into place, covering her bare breasts as if that’s enough to keep her from feeling cold at the distance he puts between them. 

He stands in her room like he has no place in it, stiffly and tightly coiled around himself.

"Elijah…" It slips out like a chink in a set of impenetrable armour, but Elena knows she’s always been easily broken. Gripping the bedsheets tightly, she watches him with lead in her bones.

Gliding to the mirror, Elijah slips his blazer on, tugging at the labels tightly. Not a single wrinkle. Quick to pull her gaze away from their reflections in it, she doesn’t want to see the distance he’s wedged between them. 

He keeps his gaze down, causing her to frown at him. "You won’t see me for a while."

She frowns. She shifts on the bed, onto her knees and pushes against them as much as she can. She remains on them, unable to swing her legs over the side of the bed to stand before him. 

"You’re leaving?"

He looks at her, gaze unreadable. "I have some business to tend to."

"When are you coming back?"

He keeps his back straight, face turned away from her. The sharp, pressed line of his mouth mimics a cage.

Opening her mouth, nothing comes out. She shakes her head, incredulousness and unhappiness eating away at the warmth and giddiness she’d been feeling moments before. She can’t demand anything from him. It’s hardly her place. She lowers her hands to her belly, dipping them so that she can cover the hair of her cunt. If he’s going to hide from her, she’ll hide from him, too.

Elijah looks away from her and clears his throat gently. "I’m not certain."

Her chest feels heavy. The only choice she’s made is being taken way from her.

Pressing her lips together unhappily, she nods, throat tight and chest twisting into knots. "Okay," she says cooly. Her throat feels like his hand is wrapped around it. She ignores the fact he can hear the pulse in her neck protest her coolness.

Tearing her gaze away from him, she drops herself to the head of her bed and doesn’t care that he can see her naked back.

Elena pulls her pillow down from the headboard and rests her cheek stubbornly against it, back turned to him. Closing her eyes tightly, she tries to ignore the sound he makes when he gently opens her window and slips into the night.


	2. plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part includes something I would’ve written for 2x19 as a one-shot, so enjoy! (Guess what it is. All you need is one guess.)
> 
> As always, I really appreciate everyone who's kudosed, bookmarked, commented and even sent me asks on Tumblr about this fic. I have no words to describe how grateful I am for your encouragement and for you to be along this journey with me!

Elena brushes her hair behind her ear, tuning Caroline out as she rambles about her History paper. She smiles when she needs to, laughs quietly when it’s her cue, and rearranges her knife and fork on her folded napkin as she waits for her breakfast.

Their little hideaway from the rest of the world is a small café in the centre of town with outdoor seating dotted with large pastel blue umbrellas. The road is busy with cars and people passing by. It can almost be mistaken for a girls’ only spot in the city. The only problem is: it doesn’t feel right to not have Bonnie physically there. But Elena’s a little excited to see one of her closest friends mirrored through the laptop screen angled to face both her and Caroline.

"Let me catch you up on _all_ the goss from yesterday, Bonnie," Caroline laughs.

"There’s a lot from _yesterday_?" Bonnie sounds doubtful, and rightfully so. But Elena only shakes her head, distracted from their conversation. Caroline’s able to gather a lot of information between classes and within five minutes. It’s intimidating and sometimes very, very frightening.

Brow furrowed, she draws her fingertips against the cool surface of the table, carving out an E and an L. Why had she expected anything different? She always knew she was a temporary anchor, gripping the ocean floor desperately for him to not move a single muscle. Klaus was still a threat. The doppelgänger was still going to die. This was merely a business transaction to keep her in town and in place where he knew her whereabouts. Elijah had confided in the safe haven of her room that he needed her to stay put so he could use her to find Klaus like she was dog bait.

This is hardly the first time Elena has mistakenly believed she was anything more than a mere reflection of an escape. Only a few days have passed since he abruptly said goodbye, and yet, Elena still holds the same amount of anger in her chest as she had that night.

She smiles when her pancakes are delivered and smiles even wider at Caroline’s over-exaggerated pout as she begs to swap her chicken salad for the delicious smelling pancakes. As she cuts into it, she resurfaces to their current conversation.

"I’m so jealous," Bonnie pouts, holding out her plate of slightly burnt toast. "I want pancakes!" At Caroline offering her a slice of chicken from her salad, Bonnie seems to relax through the screen. Elena watches her for a moment, liking the way she’s left her hair naturally curly and thick.

"Tyler’s been staying at Matt’s for the last few weeks," Caroline says, face cringing. Even in the morning light, she’s pretty with her glittery light pink eyeshadow. Her hair’s all dolled up in ringlets. Caroline taps her fork against her plate noisily like that’s the answer to all their problems. "I think he’s had a serious fight with his mom."

Bonnie meets her comment with a shrug. "Or maybe he doesn’t want Matt to be alone," she says. She takes a bite into her toast, holding her hand beneath it to catch the crumbs. "Jeremy’s even concerned about him, being all alone without his mom."

"It’s so sad," Caroline says. She looks at Elena, lifting her brows as a prompt. "Don’t you think so, Elena?"

"Yeah," she says absently. At the quizzical looks of her friends, Elena inhales and nods, livening herself up. "Yes," she says. "That sucks. I hope he’s feeling better with Tyler there."

"But poor Mrs Lockwood, all alone in that house…" Caroline presses her lips together and shakes her head.

Elena nods, letting out a breath. She pushes her food around with her fork, keeping her gaze low. Of course, she knows that’s not true. Carol Lockwood isn’t by herself, not if Elijah’s stayed put. Her poker face has gotten worse these days, so she tries to will the slight breeze to slap her hair across her face to shield her from Caroline and Bonnie’s otherwise very sharp eyes. 

Placing her knife and fork against her plate as quietly as she can, she slowly slides her phone from where it sits beside her breakfast. Pulling it onto her thigh, she turns it over and presses the screen, instantly disappointed to see there’s no notifications of new messages.

"Earth to Elena!" Caroline snaps her fingers in front of her face.

She jumps. "Yes, I was listening."

Bonnie chuckles, the sound too static for Elena’s liking.

"We’re worried about you," Caroline says, folding her arms against the table. She leans forward and pins her down with an unblinking stare, and Elena does her best not to smile. Caroline glances over towards the laptop screen at Bonnie, cocking her head as if to tell her to lean in and help. Caroline can be intimidating and funny at once, a skill she’s always envied, but she can’t help but be rough when she’s required to be soft. No, the soft one amongst them is Bonnie.

Although Bonnie’s not sitting with them, her leaning back in the cushion of her couch with her arms crossed makes her look more comfortable than she’s been in years. With such simple gestures, they make the café feel a lot smaller and intimate. It’s their own pocket that they’re in, a safe little bubble Elena knows she can trust despite the fact that they’re ganging up on her.

"You know, Elena, if you want to have some time off from school, I’m sure Alaric could write you a note," Bonnie says with a shrug. "You’ve been under a lot of stress lately."

"Yeah," Caroline says, nodding as she peers at her with wide eyes. "A lot. No one would blame you if you wanted some time to yourself."

Inhaling deeply, she looks at both of her friends, her face pinched. It feels familiar, quietly working out a way to gently let them down. Hadn’t this been how she treated them after her parents died? Whenever they offered her an out, she did her best to gently not take it.

Elena opens her mouth before she closes it, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. "That’s… a really good idea," she says. Her friends’ faces brighten. Pressing her lips together in sheepishness, she notes how Bonnie’s eyes slightly narrow. "But I can’t," she says. Caroline’s face falls into a disappointed pout. "I have so much schoolwork to catch up on. I have so may unexplained absences…"

"You should still take a break," Bonnie says, sitting up straighter. She brushes her hair behind her ear. Quietly, she continues, "It’s not every year you’re told you’re meant to die in some dehumanising ritual for a really old vampire. Take a couple of days off, or maybe a week."

Caroline still leans her arms heavily against the table, nodding passionately.

Bonnie smiles at Caroline before looking back at Elena. Even without her physically here, Elena can feel her strong presence beside her. Bonnie tugs her shoulders up confidently, a pretty smile on her face. "I’m sure Caroline can give you notes on what you’re missing and I can help you with the homework if you’re going to be a masochist."

"Seriously," Caroline says. "I can totally compel the principal into giving you time off without even making it onto your record. What are vampire friends for?"

Elena doesn’t mean to use her friends’ kindness to her own advantage. At the suggestion of skipping school, she takes it immediately. 

This is the first time she’s stood in front of the Lockwood Mansion and feared being turned away. She wonders if he can sense her standing beyond the front door, feet shifting against the porch as she decides whether she wants to give into her cold feet and run back to her car or be brave and face the big bad not-wolf. She’s not entirely sure what creature Elijah would be.

The house stands as a foreboding ghost of childhood memories. When she looks out at the sunny front yard, she can hear her childish laughter as she chased Tyler around the grounds and Bonnie cheated her way to the safety of the porch. It’s a skeleton of what it once was, its beating heart of the Lockwoods forever broken by the death of the late Mayor. She understands what that’s like, to have the house carved open. It’s something she hasn’t been able to connect with Tyler over.

Even as she tries to twist on the spot to look over her shoulder at the driveway, her feet remain planted in place, like ancient roots have risen from the earth to trap her to make sure she doesn’t make the same mistake again.

Inhaling deeply, she sparks a fire inside of the smithy of her gut. She pummels her fist into the wooden door. 

Her heart leaps into her throat as the door opens softly and quietly. He stands before her in black slacks and a white business shirt. Even at the crease of his elbow, his shirt doesn’t dare wrinkle.

She’d like to think the upward curve to his mouth is relief. It most certainly is when he lets out a breath, shoulders sagging in defeat.

"How did you find me?"

"A process of elimination," she says. Clasping her hands tightly in front of her, she tries to swarm her hands with her nervous energy so she can appear in control and unaffected. She doesn’t want him to see her sway in the otherwise calm water. She’s not here to throw stones to make the serene surface ripple. After a moment, she lifts a shoulder and admits, "Tyler’s been sleeping at Matt’s. It wasn’t that hard to figure out that you were still staying here. Is Mrs Lockwood okay?"

He inhales deeply through his nose before he nods. He smiles fondly. "She and I have interesting chats about the people in Mystic Falls. So much has changed."

Interesting. The bait swings in front of her nose and she’s desperate to stand on the tips of her toes and snap her jaws at it.

Instead, she grows impatient, wanting to tap her foot against the porch. She stands with her hands in the back of her pockets, fingers curling and uncurling behind her. 

"I know you want me to ask you what has," she says, his brows lifting up in amusement. "But I’m not going to. You’re not going to distract me from why I’m here." Crossing her arms against her chest, she fixes him with her sharpest glare. "You’re leaving. I want to know where you’re going."

Elijah’s gaze drops down to her bare neck. The locket of her necklace is barely breaching her shirt. 

She feels something heavy like stones anchor themselves in her throat. Looking up at him with an expression of cool disinterest is hard. "If you tell me, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone and you’ll… never have to worry about me again."

His lips curve upward. She struggles to look away from the way his teeth bite into the pillow of his lip like he isn’t the most dangerous person in Mystic Falls.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he steps back, pulling the door open. Elena allows herself to smile, feeling victory warm her chest. Uncrossing her arms, she lets them hang by her sides as she steps over the threshold. "Thank you."

"I’ll have you know emotional bullying is frowned upon, Miss Gilbert."

Looking around the foyer, Elena tries to spy what could be different. Would he come into Carol’s house like a tornado? Or would he come in and keep it as impersonal of himself as much as possible? She can’t see Elijah in the way the frames sit haphazardly against the tables dressing the walls or the way the cushions press against the corners of the couch. Nothing is out of place. Everything is as she remembers it being.

"I’m not bullying," she says, inviting herself to walk into the seating area. The fireplace remains unlit while the chandeliers burn brightly. The windows remain shielded. The only difference to the home is the fact it’s cloaked in darkness.

She takes a seat in a chair and crosses her leg over her knee, placing her hands on her thigh. She looks more casual and collected than she feels. Smiling, she says, "I’m just asking questions very forcefully."

He cracks a smile, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he stands by the chair opposite her. Too much distance. 

"Where are you going?" Her heart rattles in her chest.

He inhales deeply. He doesn’t let it out, seeming to use it as his way to build himself taller. Impenetrable. Elijah uses those around him to armour himself.

"Back home," he says, not looking at her. He picks at the corner of the chair. As far as she can tell, the cushion’s perfect, but his fingers appear to snag a fraying thread. "To New Orleans."

Her brow furrows as she looks at him curiously. Mouth falling open, she finds words fail to sit on her tongue for a moment. "New Orleans? Won’t Klaus… know?"

"Perhaps," he says, looking up at the closed window. She glances over her shoulder to see the curtain shielding her gaze from the outside world. It’s almost homely in the Lockwood Mansion, a feeling that she doesn’t think is familiar inside of its walls. "It’s a risk I’m willing to take."

Her sharp intake of breath is too loud for her ears. "But, I thought…"

When he looks at her, his brow furrows slightly. It’s hard to read the concern in his face, but she’s come to learn it intimately. He’s become her favourite book. "I’m not finished here," he says. It’s his turn to tug in a breath. She wonders if the words are in the air around him, sitting comfortably on his tongue as they begin to take shape.

"There’s a few things you should know about Klaus," he says, stepping over to a chair his blazer’s draped upon. He keeps his gaze down, fingers gently pinching the fabric. "He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Sacrificing the doppelgänger will grant him great power that not even nature herself would want him to have. He has eyes everywhere in Mystic Falls."

Elijah slips his blazer on like a second skin. Another wall seems to rise between them, but she does her best to try and peer through it.

She frowns, keeping her eyes glued to him. Although he’s trying to open her eyes to the monster in the dark, it’s still so vague. Truths covered deeply in stories, prettied up as if he’s afraid of scaring her or himself. The smallest of things give Elijah away; the curl of his fingers, the strain of his jaw, the line of his lips, the warmth of his eyes. She looks for a tell, but finds she only meets layers and layers of smeared ink. It’s hard to decipher what the page is trying to tell her.

"With his vampires, right? The ones that tried to take me away when I called for them?"

And there it is, the tell. Tugging at his cufflinks, his lips are pursed ever so slightly. His tongue darts out to wet them. Elijah doesn’t look at her. "I’ve seen him. He’s taken up residence in a rather questionable apartment."

Elena thinks she stops breathing. "I… know. He killed Bonnie."

He eyes her for a moment, eyeing her a little strangely. "It won’t be the last time he tries," he says. "If Bonnie wasn’t your friend, he would have recruited her to be the witch piece in his puzzle." He picks at his cufflinks, tone even. "It’s unfortunate that she had to die."

After a moment of watching him intently, she asks quietly, "Does he have eyes _everywhere_?"

"No," he says, looking up at her. "Not here. I’m not a pair of his eyes, Elena."

"I never thought you were."

He looks at her for a long moment before he drops his gaze once more. Tracing his fingers against the polished top of the chair, he licks his lips and doesn’t spare her a glance. "I can’t linger in Mystic Falls. The longer I stay, the sooner the full moon will be here."

She frowns. "You never told me if there was a specific full moon that he had to use to break the curse. Don’t these stories usually have some set date and time?"

Slightly amused, he shakes his head, gaze still avoidant. "The curse in its story is incorrect, but Klaus does need to perform his ritual on the full moon. Any full moon," he says. "My mother, as questionably brilliant and undeniably powerful as she was, underestimated Klaus’ tenacity and patience in becoming who he believes he should be." Elijah sounds a touch frustrated. She knows it’s not with her. Elijah is hardly frustrated with her these days. 

She watches him, gaze unblinking. He refuses to look up at her, but she notices so much about him without his gaze pinning her down. He’s fraying like the chair. 

"A full moon’s approaching," he says, tone clipped. "I suspect he’ll want to do it then."

He continues to fiddle with his cufflinks, straightening them against his wrists. It’s when he looks up at her, brow slightly arched, dark eyes unsurprised by her lack of passionate and vocal reaction that she feels like she’s been hit with an incredible force.

"I need some air," she chokes.

With a sweep of his hand, she takes his invitation to stand abruptly. The chair scrapes behind her. Footsteps suddenly feel clunky. She walks into the coffee table and doesn’t excuse herself. She’s navigated this path numerous times in her life, but it’s Elijah with his breadcrumbs that lead her out onto the backyard patio. 

Hands in the pockets of his slacks, he squints out at the yard ahead. He’s undisturbed. Her feet feel unbalanced, like she’s trying to walk on water. The Lockwood Mansion has always felt like another world altogether, but one she was able to navigate until he pierced its centre.

She raises her hand to shield her eyes from the blearing sun. Looking down at his hands, she knows that he doesn’t wear a ring. She feels like the sun’s burning her, eating away at her, skin slowly beginning to smoke.

Heaving in a breath, she feels it doesn’t enter her chest but sits lodged in her throat. "So… you’ve met up with him?

He doesn’t look at her, gazing out at the yard like it’s a painting. It’s a sea of never-ending earthy green. "No. He won’t see me even if I knocked on his door."

"And you’re…" She inhales deeply, looking at his profile. His face is impassive. She thinks he’s hiding. "I mean… you’re okay? You’re okay with him being here?"

"I have to be," he says, turning to face her. His hair flutters in the breeze. She watches as her hand reaches out to touch it. His eyes widen slightly and she finds her trapped breath releases from her throat. "There is a way to stop him. That’s why I must leave, Elena. I need to acquire this weapon as a contingency."

"A contingency for what?" She knows. She stares at his mouth and she knows what’s going to pour out.

He doesn’t flinch away from her touch, but he turns his head away ever so slightly. Her hand falls.

Narrowing her eyes, her throat feels tight. "For what, Elijah? Say it."

Watching his throat, he swallows thickly. Inhaling, his lips part like he wants to say something, but all he does is glance down. He pushes off from the landing, approaching the stairs descending to a level of grass. His strides are long in his cowardice.

She follows him at a run, hands clenched tightly. 

Her breath gusts out of her. His strides are long and purposeful, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his blazer. She runs then stops, keeping her strides as long as she can make them.

So many questions bubble to the surface and burn her lips. How had he known Klaus was in town? Why hadn’t he told her that it was _any_ full moon that the curse could be broken? What weapon is he searching for that’s in New Orleans? Why is she hearing about this _now_? She makes a sound, but he doesn’t look back. He glides along the grass while she struggles to catch a stride.

When he stops by the lake, she’s two steps behind him. She doesn’t step away when she realises she’s standing too close to him, arm brushing against his. Sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, she licks her dry lips and stares out at the water. The serene smooth glass of it is disturbed by ripples, the fountains gushing loudly as they push out water in a roar.

She can still hear her heart race wildly in her chest. She wonders if he came out here so he wouldn’t have to hear it.

"Elijah," she says, turning to face him. He keeps his gaze on the water ahead. He inhales deeply through his nose. "I need to hear you say it." She swallows and looks down at the water, wanting to see him, but the water refuses to reflect him back.

When she opens her mouth to speak, he’s turned to face her.

"You’re tense."

His hands are firm on her shoulders. She lets them sag, pushed down by the power of his fingers. All she’s wanted is his familiar touch to ground her; the moment his fingers press into her, she feels calm. Safe. When she looks up at his face, all she sees is impenetrable stone. Her Elijah is too far for her to reach.

She closes her eyes and moans low in her throat as his fingers dig into the tension eating away at her skin. Fingers work at the sides of her neck tentatively. Despite knowing he’s trying to distract her, she gives in and keeps her eyes closed, letting her words, her need to hear him _say it_ fall to the grass below.

When she feels lulled, she darts her tongue out to wet her lips. The rushing of the water fountains sound like they’re at a great distance now. All she can feel is him, his warm hands, the soft presses of his fingers as he delicately kneads her anger and fright away.

"Take this off," he says, fingers slipping against the collar of her jacket. 

She opens her eyes, brows furrowed slightly. His eyes are warm and expectant. Elena tugs at the arms of her jacket, pulling it off and letting it drop to the ground between them. Elijah’s hands are on her shoulders again, firm fingers warm when they brush against her skin. He slips them underneath the collar of her shirt, fingertips burning his prints into her.

Elijah drops a hand from her as he moves, circling her to stand behind her. She tenses until his fingers dig back into the bones of her shoulders, then she lets them sag once more. She tilts her head to the side as he presses his fingers into her, moulding her into a shape that makes her feel beautiful despite her burdens.

His hands slide down her sides to tug at the hem of her shirt. She helps him pull it up and over her head.

Turning to look over her shoulder, she watches his hand slide beneath the strap of her bra and dig into her shoulder. Quietly, she peers up at him and asks, "Are you going to leave?"

His hands disappear from her shoulders. It’s so quiet she can hear his breathing, laboured and quick. His hands easily pull apart the teeth of her bra and he glides it down her skin like it’s water. Her chest flushes as she stands in her jeans on the Lockwood plantation. She feels exposed in a way he might not realise.

She twists so she can look up at him. "Are you going to leave me?"

Elijah slides his hands around her waist, palming her belly. He steps into her and warms her back. He shakes his head, and quietly says, "No." His mouth is warm against hers, desperate in a way she doesn’t understand. His teeth nip at her lip accidentally, but he presses her into him; she turns around, his hands splaying across her lower back like she’s his to possess.

Elena lets herself melt before she remembers she’s in the fire to be forged into tougher steel. She straightens her tilted head and tenses her shoulders.

She draws in a deeper inhale when he pulls his warm hands away. He steps around her, and she frets that he’s going to leave. All he has to do is take a few long strides and it’s impossible to catch up, the distance between them opening like a chasm.

But he stands behind her again, the warmth of his body enveloping her own. "You’re very tense, Elena," he murmurs. His hands curve to her shoulders like she was made for him and he digs his fingers into the bones. She moans, closing her eyes, feeling her body warm as the tension turns from cold ice to flames.

He pushes down on her shoulders and she lowers to her knees. He kneels behind her. His hands move from her shoulders to her waist, sliding down to her pants. She sits taller and leans back against his chest when his fingers fiddle with the button of her jeans. He pulls her pants down her hips to her knees, fingers palming her hipbones.

Elena licks her lips and closes her eyes, heart beating as loud as thunder in her chest. Her blood feels like heated liquid gold.

She sits higher on her knees when he pulls her panties down her hips. 

"Elijah?"

The unbuckling of his belt and the tugging of fabric is louder, much louder than it should be for her human ears. His hands press against her belly, sliding up her torso slowly. His touch leaves tendrils of fire in their wake.

Sliding his hand down her torso, he palms her cunt between her legs. She inhales sharply and lifts up against her knees, digging them into the dirt. Her hands are useless; she keeps them by her sides, fingers curling around air. The press of his chest against her back sees her slowly tip over and press her hands against the dirt.

Shifting on the earth, she widens her legs and presses her palms into the grass, twining the blades between her fingers. She breathes hard, waiting for his hand to move from his finger brushing against the lips of her cunt.

"Elijah—Oh, god." Dirt climbs beneath her nails as he pushes his cock inside of her. She closes her eyes, chest warm. 

With him pressed tightly against her, Elena lets go. Her fingers flatten hard against the damp grass beneath her. The tension building up her spine flees her at his touch. She feels her body go boneless, drained of the weight she’s been carrying for almost two years. 

His hands slide to her belly, pressing hard against her skin. She keeps herself bowed, hands seeking strength from the earth. His hands slide up her chest and cup her breasts.

She leans back into him as he helps her tip back. His cock slides in deeper and she gasps, her body feeling like it’s the sun. He’s the moth that can’t resist her, stupidly moving his hips as he gives her more.

She laughs breathlessly. "Are we really doing this?"

He hums. "Mhm." Bowing his head to her neck, he nips at her pulse point and growls softly. A shiver sparks along her spine.

She settles back onto the ground, palms flat against it. His hands move to her hips as he fucks into her. Skin slaps skin loudly. She moans, uncaring of how loud she sounds. The property of the Lockwood Mansion is large, split wide open to take up so much space. Unlike the private cage of her room, she can scream all she wants.

His hands grip her hips tightly, possessively. His thrusts are sharp, harder than they’ve been before. Elena pants, the wind knocked out of her. She finds herself desiring him to burrow his fingers deep inside of her to hurt her. Remind her that she’s human. No one’s ever been unafraid to bruise her. She pushes back against him, uncaring that she rips dirt up between her fingers.

Elijah comes with a rough grunt, head bowed against the back of her head. She digs her hands into the earth as she stops rocking against him, his hips quiet against hers. Feeling his warm slickness slide down her thighs, she swallows thickly, body feeling hot and taut.

He’s out of her before she can feel empty. Breath escapes her as she’s flipped onto her back. He tugs her pants down to her ankles, unable to pull them past her shoes.

Peering down the length of her naked torso, she smiles at him. He still looks immaculate, even with his soft and wet cock and rumpled dress shirt and blazer. "The one time you can’t steal my panties."

He lifts a shoulder, appearing unfazed. "There’ll be plenty more."

A spark of heat shoots to her cunt. She barely has time to enjoy it before his mouth is on her.

Lips warm against her cunt, he slides tongue inside of her. His hands grip her hips and hold her down, and she writhes against the earth desperately. She pants hard, loud enough for the trees to quiver. He sucks on her clit and curls his tongue inside of her.

Clutching at the earth beneath her once more, he licks into her, tongue firm, nose nuzzling her cunt. He doesn’t let up, tasting himself inside of her. The mere thought has her biting her lip hard, squirming beneath him as she pants sharply. Fingers fill her and scissor inside of her, his tongue sliding between as he sucks on her clit.

Elena comes hard, body tensing. Her cry echoes around her; the earth feels like it shakes beneath her. The damp grass of the Lockwood estate is a soft cushion beneath her head. 

Lifting his face from between her legs, she stares at how his mouth is wet with her and him. He has to know how they taste together; a part of her is envious. He licks his lips and ignores the handkerchief in the breast pocket of his blazer, choosing to taste her and wear her on his mouth and chin. 

He undoes her shoes, pulling them off. Then her pants. She thinks he’s going to fuck her again when he slides her panties off and tucks them into the back pocket of his slacks.

He stands. She peers stupidly up at him, naked on the grass. She catches the way his mouth is set in a smirk. It makes him look younger, like a boy without any worries and who hasn’t seen a thousand years of horror.

When he tugs his pants up to his hips and begins to put the pieces of himself back together, Elena rushes to push herself up to do the same. 

Before she can, she holds out her hand expectantly. "I’ll need them."

Elijah looks at her, gaze warm and possessive as he looks her over and lets his eyes settle on her thighs. She’s sticky with his come; her heart skips when she thinks of how he’s claimed her. He crosses his arms against his chest, lips pulled upward, and seems to wait for her to lock her bra into place and tug her shirt roughly over her head. "You can get them back later. You can easily lord my location over my head, so I need something of yours."

Narrowing her eyes incredulously, she shakes her head. Unbelievable, yet expected. His need to own an intimate part of her feels possessive. 

"You have a problem, you know," she teases. 

He shrugs. Warmly, he teases back, "I don’t take kindly to being told what I can and cannot do."

Licking her lips, she ignores the fact that she’s half-naked, dirt clinging to her hands and and staining her knees. She peers up at him haughtily. "If you told me where you were staying, I wouldn’t have easily guessed."

Smiling in amusement, he merely looks at her and turns on his foot. 

"Hey!" 

Fast to pull her pants onto her legs, she quickly grabs shoes, forgoing slipping them over her socks so she can rush after him. She feels imperfect and free.

She runs after him. "Wait up!"

He stops and waits, holding out his hands for her to pass her shoes over to him to carry back to the house. Thankfully, he doesn’t steal them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't lying when I said I was annoyed by how fast the sacrifice happened in the storyline. All I can say is shit's happening. The next part will tell you everything you need to know, but until then... 🤫
> 
> I’ve also created an [aesthetic](https://finnicks.tumblr.com/tagged/i-have-fault-lines-in-my-bones) for this series.

**Author's Note:**

> My outline indicates this is going to be a long fic. 🤭
> 
> I intend to post when I have a new chapter written. Currently, I’m approximately five chapters ahead and want to maintain a lead close to that just for my sake.
> 
> You can find me at [Tumblr.](http://finnicks.tumblr.com)


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